Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Painful gasping was heart-wrenchingly evident as Jack struggled to breathe.

  “You.” Asa pointed to Seeley. “You caused my Jack to rebel against us. Together, we could’ve been great Sovereign Rulers. I planned for him to take the reins of a worldly kingdom. Jack’s betrayal cost us billions, and now he pays the ultimate price. If he wants to fight for Christ, Jack will die like Christ.”

  Now, Seeley. Now.’ Zeke’s slight undertone fed her mind.

  “It’s time for the consecration. Give me the child.” Asa ripped Jordan from her arms and ferried the flailing girl to a rectangular slab situated beneath an inverted crucifix.

  “Ezekiel! Markus!” Seeley bellowed.

  An iridescent explosion stunned hooded men and women. They slumped to the ground. Dozens remained standing—demons.

  Zeke appeared, not as a glorious angel, but as a fearless and powerful human. He spun toward a demon man who had broken from his confining robe. The red-skinned demon, covered in flaky ulcerations, pounced. Zeke’s fists smashed into its flesh, caving in the demon’s chest cavity. He finished him off with an uppercut to the chin. A splintered jawbone unhinged awkwardly to the side.

  A red-eyed devil provoked Markus, slobbering from a gaping orifice while wielding a stiletto. Swift and accurate, he gashed Markus’s arm. Instead of retreating, Markus ducked inside the slashing hand, getting a grip under the man’s armpit. He tore the demon’s arm from its torso with a stomach churning crackling of bones.

  Energy bled into Seeley like water soaking into a sponge. Leaping on the back of a medium-sized woman, she acquired a headlock on the fiend. Profound strength rippled in every muscle as she broke the woman’s neck. The demon spirit fled like smoke from a fire as the human frame crumbled.

  Ezekiel spotted Markus fending off three demons, with more about to attack, he transformed to his ethereal state. Out of thin air, he materialized a serrated blade that glimmered like ice. With perfect timing, he threw the icy blade to Markus, who caught it with precision. Infused with his power, the blade had the strength of a broadsword. In a synchronized move, he split one demon’s head like a melon, then swiveled, and decapitated another.

  In such an unholy place, Ezekiel felt the drain on his angelic potency. He couldn’t remain in spirit and morphed into human form, but not before pulverizing a wily critter with fangs. An unseen blow struck, dropping Ezekiel to the ground. An enormous creature hunkered over him and aimed a pistol straight at the fallen warrior’s skull.

  Flying through the air, Markus toppled the creature just as the pistol fired. Markus jolted. He glanced at the bloody hole in his shoulder and turned to the hulking demon. Juggling the blade in his hand, and with one clear-cut stroke, he severed the demon’s gullet. A volcano of gunky fluid gushed from the wailing carcass littering Markus’s sneakers.

  As Seeley pursued Asa, an arm circled her neck, strangling her. She jabbed an elbow into her mugger’s sternum, and the pressure around her neck subsided. She spun, kicking her heel in his eye.

  “Seeley,” Zeke called, “help Jack. You can release him. Concentrate on the nails.”

  “Jordan. I have to get Jordan.”

  “Markus will protect her. Help Jack.”

  Seeley threw an agonized glance at the altar where Asa was wrestling with Jordan on the concrete slab. She then observed a lightly muscled teenager striding purposefully toward them. As if feeling her concern, the angel looked at her. His eyes flashed like blue fire in his resolute face. She decided to leave her daughter in her guardian angel’s care.

  Seeley stood beneath Jack, his blood showering down on her, and concentrated on the nails lodged in his hands. Blocking the prolific noise, she blended her mind to her husband’s.

  His labored breathing and suffering moans bruised her soul. Her eyes shut, and with a split-second plea, she imagined the nails inching from the wood, one-by-one. She experienced a sensation of drawing brainpower and heard a clink, succeeded by several more. Her eyes flew opened. The spikes, dripping with blood, laid scattered on the floor. Jack dangled limply, held only by the rope tying his chest to the beams.

  Is he dead?

  ON THE ALTAR, Jordan chomped Asa’s wrist. Her jaws like a steel trap loosened when he slammed her onto the concrete and held her by the shoulders with both hands. He swore under his breath at the teeth marks. While he was distracted, she sank her teeth into his other arm. A metallic taste filled her mouth.

  He yowled, “You little brat,” and backhanded her across the face. “You’ll get yours.” He slipped a dagger from his cloak.

  Rushing an unholy mantra, Asa began the consecration. “Erth Baalrog, Lucifer endula se nobili bellator…”

  Although the words meant nothing to Jordan, Jack would have known their meaning: All mighty Lucifer accept and honor this consecration—a warrior to battle for your world.

  Asa held the dagger aloft. Suspended in time, as if in a void, Jordan wasn’t afraid. Almost subdued, she would give her life peacefully if it meant saving her mom and dad.

  She turned her head and glimpsed her mom reaching toward her father. Peering at the crossbeam, she was shocked to meet her father’s magnetic eyes. Her throat stung with inhibiting tears at the sight of his mutilated body. Miraculously, she heard each drop of his blood splash the ground. His lips moved. He was trying to tell her something. With all her heart, she wished to hear what he was saying. As if her wish was granted, his voice rang in her ears.

  “Fight back. You are the warrior.”

  It seemed the dagger plunged in slow motion.

  As all hell broke loose, Jordan regained her senses. Nerve-racking screeches, metal clanging, and heavy feet running. Asa was impelled off her, thwacking into the cement wall. Everything came to a halt.

  Jordan couldn’t take her eyes off Markus’s hand, hovering just above her heart. Thrust through his palm, the bloody dagger quivered. Its sharp tip cut her shirt, staining the fibers a brilliant red. Gripping the hilt and clenching his jaw, Markus withdrew the dagger from his hand as creatures bombarded him.

  Jordan teetered on the altar, hopping to lasso the neck of Markus’s current enemy. Arms gripped her waist, and Ezekiel actually smiled as he set her on the floor and directed her to Seeley.

  During the confrontation, cloaked worshippers had run amok, but in the aftermath, they were nowhere to be seen. Asa, along with his legions, had been annihilated or had vanished.

  Color bleaching from his face, Markus wobbled and grimaced at his battle wounds. He frowned at Ezekiel, who looked fine, except for a few scrapes.

  Taking three strides, Ezekiel hooked his arm under the hollow of Markus’s shoulder for support. “You’re young and strong, but you block when you need to disarm.”

  “Good thing you’ve got my back, bro.”

  The angels joined Seeley and Jordan, where they waited sorrowfully for Jack Chase. An unfamiliar, lustrous angel leaned over the balcony, untying the ropes from Jack’s chest. He carried Jack along the railing and descended the stairs.

  As Seeley broke into despairing sobs, she crumpled. The angel laid Jack’s body in her arms. She lovingly swept the blood soaked hair from his once handsome face. Recoiling at the yawning cuts and bloated contusions, she kissed his lips.

  Jack stirred, his eyes slit open and managed a faint smile.

  The embodied angels knelt, humbly bowing their heads as the angel who had carried Jack spoke. “I’m Rafe. For years now, Jack has fought valiantly, banishing satanic cults.”

  Stunned, Seeley said, “I thought Jack was helping them.”

  “No, he didn’t confide in you because he feared for your life and the life of your daughter. Apparently, he was right.”

  Jack moaned.

  “We need to get him to the hospital,” Seeley cried. “Before it’s too late.”

  “I need—to explain—” His voice was thinning.

  Staring at her father, Jordan nuzzled between her mom and Markus, her memories of the ghastly incident lost their sharp ed
ges. “Da–addy.” She hugged her father’s wounded hand to her chest, his blood transferring to her shirt and mingling with the blood of her angel.

  Jack choked through his words. “The manuscript— In a box, under the bed. Read it, you’ll need to know. My car—” His chest heaved, searching for oxygen. “It’s parked on Clover. Journal, in glove compartment. Use it. Go home—to your parents. There’s strength, protection with family.”

  Seeley looked pleadingly at Zeke.

  Ezekiel and Markus stood, stepping back. They took on their angelic forms, saturating the room with serenity.

  “Seeley.” Jack was failing. “Consecration—more fittingly called desecration of a warrior is—the death of the body. Lucifer binds the spirit, shapes it into a vengeful demon like him.” Jack’s eyes fell to Jordan. “I’ll be with you always.”

  “Jack, I love, love you—”

  “I regret the damage I did, and hope, I’ve helped, some way—these past years. It was all—all for you. I love—” One last breath rattled in his chest as his swollen eyes locked on Seeley. His mouth engraved in a permanent smile.

  Her throat a tangled lump, she gulped for air. Scalding tears streamed uncontrollably, washing Jack’s face. Trembling fingers stroked his jaw line as his lifeless head swayed to the side.

  She raised teary eyes and witnessed the manifestation of her past confidant and priest, Father Edmund Posluszny. The beloved priest held his arm toward Jack. Jack implausibly rose and Father Edmund embraced him.

  “Well done, good and faithful servant. Well done,” said the priest.

  Awed, they looked at Jack’s lifeless body, then at his diaphanous spirit. Radiant as the angels, his gilt-flecked emerald eyes emitted pure love. He dissolved into a wisp of a gentle breeze.

  A despairing Seeley looked to Ezekiel.

  He merely said, “Go home to your parents.”

  MORTALS ARE MERE DEATH, FEAR

  NO HARM FOR I WALK WITH YOU

  A TRAUMATIZED SEELEY and Jordan took refuge in the quaint village of Elma. Seeley’s parents, Henry and Emily, wanting to shelter them, insisted that she sleep in her old bedroom and converted a cozy attic space for Jordan.

  Months after Jack’s death, Seeley gathered her courage and opened the box containing his manuscript. She flipped page after page, reading about his upbringing and how Asa, through a blood rite, had made Jack his ‘son,’ and eventually, a polished sorcerer. Jack conveyed chilling tales of psychic phenomenon and the ubiquitous rise of supernatural demons.

  Empowered to warn the public, she began to submit query letters to literary agents and publishing houses, only to receive rejections. Jack’s investigation, his extensive work, and his self-sacrifice were slipping down the proverbial tubes.

  Discouraged about the book, she found the dog-eared journal from Jack’s battered jalopy to be a valuable resource. He’d recorded page upon page of names, places, addresses, and phone numbers, along with specific transactions and dealings within the Order’s organization.

  Studying the journal, they learned how demons possess a human body. Horrified, Seeley and Jordan read Jack’s explanation: Once the body is possessed, the person’s soul withers and dies over time. The demon inhabits the human shell until the innards start to deteriorate and the demon finds a new host.

  YEARS PASSED, DEVOID of demons or Asa crossing their paths. Yet, Seeley always had the sensation they were being watched. She continued to look over her shoulder and persisted in homeschooling Jordan for her protection.

  At sixteen and strikingly beautiful, Jordan knelt in the antiquated chapel within St. Mary’s of the Holy Angel’s Church. She stared upward at a life-sized statue stationed on a shelf, her emerald eyes unblinking, lost in the discipline of prayer. Brunette hair with red highlights flowed over her shoulders. Resting a delicate chin on laced fingers, her lips moved ever so faintly, seeking advice on a recent vision.

  Familiar sparking dots like miniature firecrackers appeared next to her. The dots coalesced into her guardian angel, Markus. Flashing blue eyes connected with her, then he gazed aloft to the womanly statue, as if in anticipation. Jordan followed his gaze to the cold granite.

  She was distracted again when dazzling light radiated. Now clothed with the sun, the statue seemingly breathed life. The ineffable woman’s translucent mantle and hair billowed in an arcane breeze and loving eyes smiled at her.

  Entranced, Jordan stared at the apparition. “Salve, Regina.”

  “Daughter of my heart,” lilted a heavenly voice. “There is a terrible battle waged above all levels of spirits. Those who are good against the wicked—angels against demons. The battle grows fiercer, calling all beings into combat. Remember, you are never alone. Your faith will be tested through unimaginable tribulations. Be strong.” Her pink lips curved, though, the woman’s eyes filled with crystalline tears that tripped over her lids—tears of heartache and love.

  Swiftly, life left the woman, returning the statue to cold granite. Jordan peered at the glorious angel beside her. Distressed, fathomless, and yet, unwavering eyes stared back. Markus faded into pure mist.

  Heavenly apparitions, prophetic visions, and foreseeing future events had not only plagued Seeley, but Jordan had also inherited the gift, along with developing oddities such as their telekinesis and remarkable strength. Mother and daughter had discovered an adept priest, Father James, to help sort through their peculiar reality.

  While picnicking at Chestnut Ridge, Seeley and Jordan practiced their telekinesis. They sat under a shelter, giggling like best friends, as swings on the nearby swing set rocked back and forth—their power at work.

  “Awesome.” The chained swing whooshed and coiled around the pipe.

  “Show off,” Seeley teased.

  Jordan cupped her ear. “Do you hear that really annoying dog barking?”

  “I don’t hear any dog.”

  “I can hear pretty good.” Jordan clipped a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like, do you hear water?”

  “Water?” Seeley strained to hear the water she spoke of, without results. The extent of Jordan’s talent constantly amazed her. “Take me to this water.”

  They walked through trees and pines and over a small ridge, roughly a quarter of a mile into the wooded park. They stopped at a babbling brook.

  Jordan said, “There, water.”

  Seeley chuckled. “I hear it now.”

  EMPLOYED WITH THE Courier Express, the city’s newspaper, Seeley found working and homeschooling her maturing daughter quite frazzling. It didn’t help that her opinionated parents frequently added their two cents.

  “Send Jordan to school,” groused Henry. “Lighten up on the kid.”

  “Dad, I like homeschooling her,” Seeley said. “What’s wrong with sheltering my daughter from the outside world for a while?” She secretly held the doomed prophecy hanging over Jordan’s head close to her heart and had been biting her nails for years waiting for Asa to make his move.

  “For a while? She’s sixteen. It’s high time she made a few friends and experienced life.”

  “I have a friend,” Jordan said. They paid no attention to her. Indifferent, she shrugged and grabbed a cookie.

  Em agreed with her husband but eased the stress by adding, “You and Jordan have been through so much.” She touched Seeley’s hand. “We don’t have blinders on. We’ve always known of your gifts, and you keep things from us. However, Jack would want you to live your life.”

  Her mom was right, but as she’d said, Seeley would never tell them everything.

  “What I need is to find a place for the two of us.” She looked from Em to Henry. “I’ve mooched long enough, don’t you think, Dad?” Not really serious, she’d felt secure in knowing Jordan was safe with her parents.

  Henry harrumphed, but Em interjected, “Absolutely not. After losing you for all those years, I’m thoroughly enjoying a full house.”

  Seeley knew her parents still harbored a grudge from when Jack had moved them across th
e country and had broken all communication. But they didn’t know that they’d fled Elma and Asa’s influence.

  “I’ve saved some money from my job at the paper. Maybe I can find a place nearby.” She cut off their protests before they got started. “Omigosh, look at the time,” she said,—glancing at the clock. “Jordan and I are late for class.”

  The lines around Em’s mouth deepened. “Why are you taking these martial arts classes, and what’s that other stuff?”

  “We’re learning to defend ourselves. It’s a crazy world out there.”

  “Yeah, Em. It’s a riot,” Jordan piped in and whipped her leg through the air, demonstrating a kick. “Someday, if I ever have a boyfriend, he’d better watch out.”

  Unappealing as it seemed, Jordan was growing-up. Seeley’s parents were correct; she needed to untie the apron strings. She snagged her purse and hustled Jordan to the car.

  The forty-five minute drive into the city to take classes at the accredited Jacob Adams Academy was well worth the effort. Their private lessons built confidence and precision. For years, Seeley had been preparing Jordan for the unimaginable. Her visions of soulless humans were becoming a nightly event. She merged into traffic and soon became agitated with the congested highway.

  “Cripes!” She veered into the far lane. “We’re going to be late.” The red needle on the speedometer spiked.

  “Chill, Mom,” Jordan said. “It’s no big deal if we’re late.”

  The stress lines relaxed into a smug grin as Seeley darted a peek at her daughter. They now stood shoulder to shoulder, and she wore her hair well past her shoulders, just like Seeley. Her heart-shaped face glowed in good health and masked a core of fortitude. It was Jordan’s eyes that reminded her of Jack—the same compelling, gold-flecked green, fanned by plump eyelashes. She’d also inherited his easy-going personality and stubborn resolve.

  Seeley considered her father’s comments about Jordan enrolling in high school. “You have friends, don’t you?” She tried to sound casual. “Like Cayden and. . . What’s that other girl’s name? Oh yeah, Kristin.”